White Christmas
by Sparky Dorian
Summary: It's Christmas Eve, and Neal recieves an unexpected visitor in a dream. Is it just him, or is this all very A Christmas Carol? Merry Christmas to all my fellow Collars!


_A/N: Okay, so, this whole thing was written pretty quickly, so I hope it's alright. The idea just sort of sprung into being and I wrote it. I'd love to hear your thoughts. Merry Christmas!_

"Neal," a gentle voice pierced through Neal's deep sleep. He rolled over in bed and sluggishly opened his eyes to look at the face of his addresser.

"Hi, Mom," he murmured. He sat up quickly. "Mom?"

"Hello, Neal," she said, smiling.

"H-how are you here?" He asked, incredulous. "You're-"

"I know," she interrupted gently. "I'm not _really_ here, my darling. I'm just a messenger."

Neal tried to understand what she meant by this, but couldn't quite manage it with his still-sleepy brain. Some part of him said that there was no way this was real, but the larger part didn't want to question his mother's presence here. "What's the message, then?" He asked slowly, just looking at her and drinking her image in. She looked so healthy, so perfectly beautiful. It was a side of her that Neal hadn't really gotten to see while she'd been alive.

"You will see," she said mysteriously, her bright blue eyes glittering. "Come with me."

Standing slowly, Neal found himself inexplicably dressed in a suit and tie. He looked up at his mother, but she offered no explanation besides a small smile. Turning toward him, she offered her hand. He met her eyes and hesitantly reached out. Her hand was warm, and it felt as real as it ever had. She clasped his hand tightly, leading him toward the window.

"Where are we going?" He asked curiously. "We can't just jump out the window, can we?"

"You still ask a lot of questions," she said with fond amusement. "As for where we're going, it's just a little trip to some Christmases past."

"Christmases- what?" Neal kept held of her hand as she threw the windows open and cold air rushed in. Nicole Caffrey stepped up onto the sill and pulled Neal with her.

"Are you sure about this?" Neal asked her. She merely nodded, and suddenly they were floating. It was a very odd sensation, his fingers and toes tingling as gravity lost most of its hold on him.

"Don't worry," Nicole said, squeezing his hand comfortingly. "We're perfectly safe."

"Alright," Neal said, looking down at the dark city block beneath him and swallowing. His mother seemed to blur, then everything else around them followed suit, and suddenly Neal was standing outside his old home in Texas.

"What year is it?" Neal asked curiously. Somewhere between the first appearance of his mother and the inexplicable flying, he'd decided that this must be a dream, resulting from his sleep-deprived state.

"Nineteen eighty-four," Nicole said. "You're seven at the moment."

Seven, seven. Neal tried to recall what had been significant about this particular Christmas, but couldn't seem to do so. His mother had released his hand, but beckoned for him to follow her into the home. Warily, he did so. His memories of living here were scattered, but what he did remember held mixed emotions for him.

"Mommy! Daddy!" He heard a slightly shrill voice call. "Wake up, it's Christmas!"

Neal was surprised to see a small version of himself run through the room to where his parents slept. It was also strange that he'd addressed his father with such openness. Perhaps this had been one of the better periods.

"You were such a cute little boy," Nicole said affectionately. Neal smiled, looking over at her. With a start, he realized that he was almost as old as she had been, now. That wasn't something he'd ever contemplated, becoming older than his mother.

There were sounds of protest through the walls, then the seven-year-old Neal returned with both of his parents in tow. The difference between the two Nicoles was striking and saddening. Here was the mother he remembered from most of his childhood-happy, but perpetually tired and always slightly sick. The three Caffreys sat down near the tree.

"Go ahead and open a present, Neal," his father said, sounding actually... nice. Neal wondered why he didn't remember this Christmas, since it had obviously been so different from many in his later childhood.

"I think this was my favorite Christmas," Nicole murmured from beside him. "Your father had a great job and wasn't drinking at all. It was a good few months."

"It seems like it," Neal agreed, eyes fixed on his family. Of the three of them, he supposed he was the only one left. His mother passed away not so many years after this, and his father hadn't been faring all that well when Neal left with Mozzie.

"Come," Nicole said, taking his hand again. "We have much more to see."

She led him through several more childhood Christmases, some happy, some much less so. Neal's mind began to feel a little overloaded, so many memories that had faded away being dragged back to the surface. Finally, the scene changed completely, and they were standing in a home he knew well.

"I don't know, El," Peter was saying. He was on his couch, close to his wife as Christmas tree lights shone on them. "This guy's good. I don't know how soon it'll be."

"Don't sell yourself short," Elizabeth advised Peter. "You're pretty good, too, if I do say so myself. You'll get him."

They both looked at an open file on the table and Neal realized that they were talking about him. Peter reached over, closing the file and kissing his wife gently. "Either way, I want to spend this Christmas with you, not with Caffrey."

"That sounds like a fine idea," Elizabeth said, smiling and pulling Peter closer to her.

"They're good people," Nicole said, looking at Neal.

He nodded. "I know."

Next was the second Christmas after Peter started chasing him. This time, he'd known Peter well enough that a gift was sent. Peter was definitely more preoccupied this year, and Neal could see that this was having an effect on Elizabeth.

The third Christmas was even worse. It was only a few months before Peter had caught Neal, and he'd known he was close. Neal watched as he paced back and forth, then was finally distracted by Elizabeth, who took him into the front room to relax.

Neal blinked, conflicting feelings bubbling up in his stomach. When he opened his eyes again, he was standing in his loft with his mother beside him.

"Why did we have to do that?" Neal asked, isolating at least one chunk of those emotions as guilt. But there was also nostalgia, warmth, and regret a little.

"I think you know why," Nicole said.

Neal looked at the floor.

"You see, your past wasn't all bad, Neal," Nicole said. "And you need to stop thinking of it that way."

"I know it wasn't," Neal protested. "I had you."

"You had a lot more than that," Nicole told him, setting a hand on his shoulder. "I think you can see that a bit better, now."

"I guess," Neal said. He wrapped his arms around his mother gently. "Do you have to go?"

"Go?" Nicole asked, returning his hug. "What do you mean?"

"You delivered your message, so..."

"Oh." Nicole suddenly understood, and she laughed softly. "No, darling, I haven't finished deliviering my message yet. Only a third of it."

Neal stepped back, head tilting to one side. "A third?"

"Yes," Nicole said, smiling and straightening his lapel. "You've seen your Christmas past. What still needs to happen."

Realization dawned in Neal's eyes and he gave a sideways smile. "Present and future? But aren't there supposed to be two _other_ ghosts?"

"If you'd rather I'd left," Nicole began, shrugging.

"No, no, stay," Neal said quickly. "You're much better than a red-headed giant or a shadow."

"Is that the only version of the Christmas Carol you've seen dear?" Nicole asked, shaking her head amusedly.

"No," Neal said, grinning. "It's just my favorite one."

"Understandable," Nicole said. "Okay, I believe we've lingered here long enough."

Neal blinked again.

This time, instead of moving, time just passed very quickly. Sunlight streamed through the window and he could hear sounds from the main floor.

"Are we going down to see June?" Neal asked his mother, looking at the door.

"Yes," Nicole said, nodding. "I have to meet the woman who's giving my son a home." She smiled wrly. "Even if that meeting is only one sided."

Neal nodded, opening the door for Nicole and starting down the hall. The smell of cinnamon rolls and coffee hit his nose and his stomach growled. Nicole laughed.

"I'm afraid you'll have to wait until later to actually eat anything," she said sympathetically.

"At least I get a preview," Neal said, reaching the kitchen. June had given her housekeeper the day off, and was making the cinnamon rolls herself. Her hands worked quickly, rolling and cutting the dough while keeping an eye on the batch that was already in the oven. Neal didn't know what she was planning to do with all of the extras, but knowing June, it was something very kind.

"She's a wonderful person," he said to his mother. "Always thinking of others."

"Yes," Nicole said, nodding. "She really cares for you, you know."

"I know," Neal murmured, looking at June's grandmotherly face. Nicole laid a hand on his arm.

"We have to move on," she said. She took his hand and everything blurred again. When it came into focus, they were standing in Monday, which was where Mozzie went on Saturdays. Neal had long been trying to figure out the pattern behind Mozzie's names, but more likely than not there wasn't one. It would _throw off the feds_, after all.

Mozzie himself was sitting on a soft red couch, taping the corners of a package. Several others lay on the red cushion next to him, and he was humming something under his breath. Neal's eyes were drawn to the spot on Mozzie's chest where he knew a scar was present. It was a miracle that Mozzie was alive, really. Mozzie's miracle, and Neal's. Mozzie had been in his life longer than anybody else he'd known, and if had lost him that day... he still didn't know what he would've done.

"Here's another person who cares about you," Nicole said softly. "So much so that he risked his life for you, and has before on many occasions."

"He's a good friend," Neal agreed, folding his arms loosely across his chest. "You would've liked him."

Nicole's eyes rested on Mozzie for a moment, and she smiled. "I believe you're right." She looked at Neal seriously, her eyes pulling his identical ones in. "Mozzie has done so much for you, Neal. Remember that."

Neal nodded, looking at Mozzie and seeing the silent hospital bed again. "I will," he promised.

"There's just one more place to stop," Nicole said. She and Neal stood for just a breath longer, watching Mozzie moving serenely through Monday, and then the world blurred.

Neal heard Peter before he saw him.

"Which one of these did you want, El?" He called. "Red and green or green and white?"

"Neither," Elizabeth replied from another room in the house. "One of them should have all three."

"All three," Peter repeated, digging through the cabinet. "Oh. Found it," he said. He brought the colorful plastic bowl through to where Elizabeth was working in the kitchen. They were both in Christmasy clothes. Neal suspected that Elizabeth had picked out both of theirs, since Peter could barely match a tie to a shirt. Peter kissed Elizabeth on the way by and she smiled.

"Thanks," she said.

"You're welcome. Is there anything else I can do?" Peter filled a glass of water from the sink and sipped it.

"Would you take the rolls out of the oven and put the pan on the stove?" Elizabeth asked as she chopped some fruit.

"Sure." Peter picked up a hot pad and did as he'd been asked. "What time is Neal coming over again?"

"Around two, I think," Elizabeth said. "We still have a couple of hours. He was going to stay and see June's grandchildren before heading over."

Peter smiled. "Oh. The little one just worships him," he said.

"I'd think you'd be more worried about that," Elizabeth said teasingly. "Neal turning the little girl, something like that?"

"I don't think June would let him," Peter said in an amused tone. "And she has him wrapped around her little finger far too much for that to happen."

Elizabeth laughed. "That's very sweet." Neal smiled and leaned against the counter, watching them work.

"Almost sickeningly so." Peter replaced the hot pads in the drawer. "Is Mozzie coming, too?" He asked suddenly.

"I think so, later," Elizabeth said, nodding. "He's feeling a lot better lately, so he should be over."

"Good." Peter nodded. "That'll help Neal. I think he's been feeling antsy about Mozzie ever since he's gotten out of the hospital. Seeing him okay reassures him."

"I agree," Elizabeth said. Neal's smile softened. He didn't know they thought so much about his well-being.

The doorbell rang from far off and Elizabeth smiled. "Oh, that'll be my sister. She's just coming by to say hello."

"I'll get the door," Peter said.

Neal jumped as a hand touched his shoulder. "Let's go, my son," Nicole said, her smile lightly glowing. "We have spent enough time in the present."

"Ah." Neal nodded, a little wary. "Isn't the future always the worst?"

"That depends," Nicole said. "We'll just have to see."

"Okay," Neal said. He took her hand and they were suddenly standing in a prison hallway.

Neal stiffened slightly. It was a hallway he knew very well. "Why are we here?" He asked, though he feared he already knew the answer.

Nicole was no longer smiling. Her eyes were grave and sad. "You're here, Neal. We're here to see you."

Silently, Neal walked down the hall to his old cell, which was now occupied again. He was sitting in the corner on a cot, leaning his head against the wall. He'd been provided with none of the additions he'd enjoyed last time, and the only thing he could see that wasn't strictly prison-issued was a picture frame with photos of Peter, El, June, and Mozzie.

"Merry Christmas," the future Neal muttered to himself, heaving a sigh and blinking rapidly.

Neal smiled sadly. "Merry Christmas," he replied, though he knew it wouldn't be heard.

He heard his mother come to stand by him and asked softly, "What did I do?"

"You pushed the rules one too many times, and an agent died because of it." Nicole wrapped one hand around the bars.

_An agent died? Not..._ "Not Peter, though. Peter's alright, right?" Neal asked desperately.

"Peter's... alive," Nicole said. "We're going there next." She held out her hand, squeezing his comfortingly. Neal cast one last glance at himself before everything went fuzzy, and then they were standing in the Burke's kitchen again.

It was a slightly different place this time, the feeling of the home slower and a little less fillled with Christmas joy. Peter was chopping carrots methodically while Elizabeth stirred something on the stove.

"Peter lost his badge over the whole thing," Nicole explained softly. "He's getting work as an accountant when he can, but Elizabeth's having to work longer hours to keep things paid for."

Neal swallowed. "I can't believe it," he said, shaking his head. He looked around the kitchen. How could things have changed so much, just because of his bad choice?

"I'm afraid it's true," Nicole said. "Completely."

"And... and Mozzie?" Neal asked hesitantly.

"His name was dragged around a bit too much for his liking during the court proceedings," Nicole said. "He left, nobody knows where he is now."

Neal nodded slowly. "I see." He stepped forward next to Peter at the counter. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry, for both of you."

"Are we going to go visit Neal today, honey?" Elizabeth asked from across the kitchen, her voice quiet.

"If you want to," Peter said. "Later."

"Okay." Elizabeth nodded, exhaling. Neal turned away, his chest burning. How could he have done all of this?

"This isn't set in stone, though, right?" He asked his mother. "I can change things still, can't I?"

"That's up to you," Nicole said. "But we've spent long enough here. It's time for you to get back to the present."

"Does that mean..." Neal looked at her.

"Yes, my darling, I have to go," Nicole affirmed.

Neal wrapped his arms around his mother and breathed in her perfume-cherry, as it always had been. He closed his eyes as the kitchen fuzzed out. Moments later, he was standing alone in his loft, holding nothing but air.

He took a few steps and opened the curtains. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, casting light on the city. Neal let out a breath and ran his hand through his hair. He could hear the sounds of June far below him, already making preparations for when her grandchildren would arrive.

It was a new day.

Many hours later, Neal stood on the front porch of the Burkes' home, poised to knock. He let out a breath, and knocked twice.

Elizabeth answered the door almost immediately, smiling warmly at him. "Neal," she greeted. "Merry Christmas. We were wondering when you'd arrive."

"Well, I'm here," Neal said, smiling back. He gave her a hug, careful not to hit her with the gifts he was holding. "It's good to see you, Elizabeth."

"Please, come in," she said, gesturing inside. He followed her through the door and saw Peter and Mozzie already sitting down in the front room.

"Neal," they both said in unison, in about the same tone.

"I'm sorry," he said, eyes widening innocently. "I was unavoidably detained."

"Yeah," Mozzie scoffed, "by a five-year-old."

"She's very convincing," Neal said, crossing his arms, feeling like he was being ganged up on. He set his gifts down by the fireplace and sat down across from Peter and Mozzie.

"Those big brown eyes always do the trick," Peter agreed. Neal laughed.

"Yep. Always been a sucker for that," he said. "Merry Christmas, you two."

"Merry Christmas," they returned.

Neal spent the evening laughing and talking with them, though internally he was filled with a sort of quiet thoughtfulness. What choices, exactly, had been the ones to land him back in prison?

There was no way to know, he supposed. He'd just have to watch himself a little more closely. Looking around him, he took in the smiling faces as they exchanged gifts. He definitely couldn't let this deteriorate into the possible future he'd seen.

When the evening grew late and Mozzie had already departed, Neal thanked the Burkes warmly, hugging Elizabeth again and accepting Peter's clap on the back.

"Good night, Neal," they said as he left the house.

He turned back to face them, smiling. "Good night."

As he walked away into the night, holding three heartfelt gifts, he smiled. The air was filled with the scent of cherries.


End file.
